


The Traitor Bridegroom

by shella688



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Once Upon a Time (In Space) - The Mechanisms (Album), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Brief Alcohol Mention, Canon-adjacent, F/F, Minor Unreality, Violence, based off The Robber Bridegroom, i can't write in a consistent style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24611917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shella688/pseuds/shella688
Summary: A story of Mr Fox and the spy(The fairy tale The Robber Bridegroom, set in the world of OUATIS)
Relationships: The Spy / The Cook
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21
Collections: The Mechanisms But Without The Mechanisms (Summer 2020)





	The Traitor Bridegroom

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Juan_Pujol_Garcia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juan_Pujol_Garcia/pseuds/Juan_Pujol_Garcia) in the [mechs_albums_summer_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/mechs_albums_summer_2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> There are a lot of fascinating fairy tales out there. The Juniper Tree, The Six Swans, The Robber Bridegroom, The Snow Queen...I'd like to see any of these, or others, woven into the world of OUATIS. Who ends up on which side, how do they fit into the setting, how gay can things get?

Come, friends, I've got a tale for you all tonight. You could even say it came to me in a dream, which would be a nice bit of dramatic irony.

Ah- you'll understand soon enough. First, let me tell you about the spy, and one Mr Fox.

* * *

The greatest spy in the Resistance she was called. Quick-witted and calculating, she could take on any role and wear any mask with ease. She had slipped in to King Cole's palace itself, and, even more impressively, slipped back out, having lost only a finger to the knives that waited round every corner.

Then, one day, she fell in love.

Not that that's a _bad_ thing, mind. It was a good match too - a general he was, adept at laying plans that not even the sharpest Loyalist leaders could see through. As it turned out, there was a good reason for that, but that comes later. We'll call him Mr Fox.

He loved her right back, or at least that how it seemed.

One day to go before the two's wedding. Mr Fox asked the spy  
_if you would be so kind_  
_pray come to my lair_  
_there are such vital things_  
_I must show to you there_

An odd way of asking for sure. He wouldn't elaborate, though the spy pressed him, instead insisting that it should remain a surprise for his soon-to-be wife.

At last the spy agreed. Mr Fox would leave her a trail of waypoints, each of which would transmit the coordinates of the next one, ans she would follow them to where his lair was hidden, deep within the woods.

But she wasn't a fool. Maybe it was Mr Fox's tone of voice, maybe it was the glint in his eye. Maybe it was just habit. Regardless, as she followed the blinking trail of technology she tied small scraps of fabric to the trees, so she might find her way back if it came to it.

The trail twisted and turned. The lair was hidden well - without anything to follow she might wander forever and never find it. As she walked, birds flocked to the branches above and around her. They whistled and chirped; the spy almost fancied she could make out words in their calls,

 _turn back_ _turn back_  
_turn back_ _turn back_

_do not venture far inside_  
_nor in this traitorous_  
_house abide_

The spy shook her head. She must be imagining things. Even so, approaching the lair's entrance, she unsheathed her knife and gripped it tight.

The door was unlocked, swinging open soundlessly. The main hall was empty, devoid of furniture and life. No voices greeted her - no sign of her husband-to-be.

Room after room she crept through, each as empty as the last. Something was wrong here and the spy resolved to find out what it was.

She found someone at last in the kitchen.

The cook was quiet and fearful, but knew more than she let on. Hardly surprising - you'd be amazed at what people say when they think the servants don't understand what's going on.

People always do this, or those in command, at least. They think the servants - the cooks, the tailors, the cleaners - are so unimportant as to not be worth acknowledging, and they will hold onto this view even when left with no food, rags instead of clothes, and mould eating away at everything around them.

"This house is a den of traitors," the cook whispered to her. "Run whilst you still can."

She spoke plainly, especially compared to our Mr Fox, and for that the spy was inclined to trust her. Of course, there's nothing wrong with some embellishment in your story, and-  
Oh, forget it.

Naturally, the spy wasn't going to run. Not until she had found out what was going on; and not, she had decided, without getting the cook out with her.

Suddenly, a door slammed shut.

The spy glanced around the room quickly, looking for someplace to hide, but the cook was faster still, pushing her behind a barrel and motioning her to be quiet.

It sounded like there was an entire battalion coming through the house, stomping and crashing. They stomped and crashed through the main hall. They stomped and crashed down the stairs. Mr Fox threw open the kitchen door and stomped in, and behind him-

Behind him marched in a squad of three Rose Reds, bristling with weapons. Thing was - Mr Fox didn't seem to be their prisoner. He was perfectly at ease, sitting down, propping his feet up on the table and motioning the cook to bring him a drink.

The spy, still crouched unseen behind the barrel, narrowed her eyes. Our good Mr Fox wasn't quite so good after all.

With glint in his eye and calm as you please, Mr Fox said  
_I capture the rebels_  
_their plans you are told_  
_you promised me payment_  
_so where is my gold?_

A Rose Red sneered. When she spoke, it was stilted, like the ability to form words was only added as an afterthought.  
"You are always talking, like this is but a story."  
She pulled out a bag and set it down heavily on the table. It clinked.  
"One day you will find that no-one cares to listen."

Mr Fox opened up the bag and, sure enough, it was full of shining golden coins, each stamped with King Cole's mark. Blood money - payment for every rebel Mr Fox had tricked and trapped and handed over to the Royalists without a second thought. Something in the spy's heart hardened.

She glanced over at the cook, who had retreated to a corner. The cook shook her head quickly - this wasn't the time for revenge, not when the Rose Reds were still here. But then she smiled, a warm, fleeting smile, and the spy softened again, just slightly.

Taking a coin, Mr Fox held it up to the light. He was still admiring it as another Rose Red dashed it from his hand. It span across the floor and came to stop, quite unseen, next to the barrel. The spy picked it up and hid it in her sleeve. A plan was forming.

Mr Fox looked ready to speak again, but a Rose Red interrupted before he got the chance to spout more pretty little rhymes.  
"Bring us the spy like you swore."  
She unsheathed her sword, and Mr Fox paled.  
"Or we will take your head and be done with you."

Spinning on her heel, she turned and marched out, the other two soldiers following suit.

Our Mr Fox no longer seemed quite so calm and collected. The exchange had clearly rattled him something awful - though the spy wasn't inclined to sympathise. Not now.

He snatched up the bag of gold and hurried out. The two women waited until his footsteps had faded away. At last, the spy stood up, the coin still stowed in her sleeve.

"He'll spend the night plotting, or drink himself into oblivion." The cook spat in disgust.  
"Run," she urged. "Run far from here and never come back."

The spy shook her head.  
"If I run, then we run together. I won't leave you here." She took the cook's hand with hers and held it tight.

They didn't let each other go as they emerged from Mr Fox's lair to find the nearest waypoint silent and dead - no help to anyone. They didn't let each other go as they followed the fabric scraps the spy had left so long ago. They didn't let each other go as they rebel base drew into sight, and the spy softly whispered her plan into the cook's ear.

* * *

The spy sat quietly at the head table, a sharp contrast to the wedding merriment around her. She found it hard to be glad, not when she was due to be wed to a killer and a traitor.

Well- maybe "due to be wed" is misleading. Our spy has a trick up her sleeve yet.

"A speech!" called the cook, just another body in the crowd. "A speech from the bride!"

A clamour of voices agreed with her, not least Mr Fox.  
_a speech from the bride_  
_as it would seem-_

"My love, I had a most disturbing dream," the spy interrupted, to hoots of laughter. Mr Fox's pretty words were infamous round these parts.

"I followed waypoints through a deep dark wood  
And came at once upon traitor's den.  
The air scented with blood."

(Mr Fox seemed less at ease, perhaps.)  
_that your mind could be so mean!_

"Oh my love, it was but a dream.  
Then in that lair, a lowly cook  
Warned me of the monsters coming  
And oh! how her hands shook."

(Did Mr Fox recognise the cook?)  
_such things are not as they seem-_

"Again my love, it was but a dream!  
In marched the monsters, two by two  
No ogres, imps, no dragons, no  
They looked like us - they looked like you."

_what monsters lurk within our minds!_  
(Mr Fox had forgotten to rhyme)

"My love, it was but a dream,  
These monsters spoke of catching us!  
Selling us out for King Cole's gold  
Turning our efforts to dust!"

(The crowd were wild oh! how they brayed  
Mr Fox found he had naught to say)

"I said, my love, it was a dream,  
But facts are sharp and cold,  
I was not trapped in that traitor's lair  
And from it, I took this gold."

The spy held King Cole's coin up to the crowd. The light bounced off it and lit in their hearts a flame of anger. They set upon Mr Fox, frenzied and tearing, bringing him to what you might call justice. None in the room called it murder for sure.

And when, at last, they calmed, there was hardly enough left of Mr Fox to bury. Not that they would have done.

* * *

And what happened to the spy and the cook? Well, nothing those Loyalist bastards can prove. But I hear they married, and are together still, fighting the good fight for freedom.

Of course, friends, if anyone asks - this was but a dream.  
  
  
  
  



End file.
